Home is Where the Heart is
by Spikesgirl58
Summary: Sometimes just getting home alive is its own reward.


He walked through the apartment with an economy of movement. Sixteen hours on a plane, packed into a cramped seat sandwiched between a young mother and an overweight business man had sapped nearly every ounce of resistance that he possessed. Through sheer effort of will, he'd made his report to the Old Man and dragged himself home.

Once inside the door, he could feel the stress start to slide from his shoulders as snow slid from a sun-warmed roof. Sanctuary, peace, and a welcomed chance to let his guard down wormed their way into his consciousness as he dropped his suitcase and headed directly for the bedroom.

Cracking open the bedroom door, he smiled at the lump that was curled up in the middle of the bed. Knowing that his partner would be asleep at this late hour, he'd showered at headquarter, changed quickly into the extra suit hanging in his locker and high tailed it home. Now all that remained to strip it off and crawl into the beckoning warmth of those bed clothes.

_Ah, bliss, pure and absolute blis,s_ he thought as he slid in between the sheets and settled down beside the bed's occupant. The familiar scent of his partner filled his nose as he snuggled closer, draping his arm over a trim waist.

"Your feet are freezing." The lump protested, a pillow muffling the words.

"Yes, it's cold outside."

"You just get in?"

"A couple hours ago."

"Success?"

"Depends upon whose side you're on, I suspect. UNCLE – one, THRUSH, zero."

"Good to know. Waverly will be happy."

"Nothing makes Waverly happy."

"He needs to get laid."

"Speaking of such…"

"Aren't you exhausted?"

"Too much so to sleep, but it's also nice to just lay here and know there won't be anyone shooting at me for the next few hours if you're too tired."

"I could fix that if you'd like." Fingers caught his hair, still damp from his earlier shower. "I have something that will put you right to sleep… eventually." A tongue found his earlobe and flicked it, then sucked it in. A hand trailed up his side, stroking, checking, and searching for non-existent injuries. It paused on his chest, found a nipple and squeezed it hard… just the way he liked it.

He sighed, arching into the touch and the lips abandoned his ear, moving down his neck in a series of light nips and sucking kisses. He'd be a marked man tomorrow, but that didn't bother him. His partner knew enough to keep the marks below the collar line, easily concealed from prying eyes.

His hand caught a handful of soft hair as he held the mouth closer, encouragingly, his breath catching as the lips, tongue and teeth obligated. As a much younger man, he'd never really understood the attraction of fore play. It always seemed to just keep him from his main objection, but now, he welcomed it, begged for it, desperate to feel the touch of his partner's hands and mouth upon him long before desiring the pain/pleasure of penetration. What he once welcomed was now more of the beginning of the end. Until then, his world was stopped, held in perfect balance by just one man.

The mouth, the hands, they never stopped, but continued to move, exploring his body just as his own hands roamed. Achingly familiar planes and valleys tickled his fingertips until it became too much and he needed more and his fingers gripped and clung, anxiously for the firm, hard body beneath the soft skin.

_So close_, he thought, _too close_ and he used those same hands to drag his partner back up before that talented mouth could find his penis, those fingers, some place even more pleasant to tempt.

Mouths met, each of them groaning as tongues wrestled for dominance, both demanding, both prepared to acquiesce. Insistent and very wet, their tongues tangoed with one another until he dipped his head back in surrender. Instantly, his partner was at his throat again, abusing the tender flesh there.

Then, by unspoken words, they both knew it was time and the mouth fell away to lick it way down his chest, stomach. The feeling of whiskers against his abdomen, his thighs, and finally his penis made him groan, a catching needful thing full of the feelings he couldn't quite express when he was sane and sated.

Moist warmth enveloped him and he sighed, as a hand held him pinned to the bed. There was a whisper of breath against his public bone, ticking its way through the coarse hair. Again, he moaned and was rewarded by a finger, already slick and wet, tracing it way back, rubbing his perineum.

Then that moment of delicious pressure as it slid into him, soon joined by a second and then a third, working him, preparing him for what was to come. He smiled at the thought. He was to come, eventually, but not for awhile yet… he hoped.

That mouth, those fingers worked their magic on him and then suddenly they were gone, leaving him gasping at the loss, a protesting whine cut off as the fingers were replaced by something even more desired. He pressed back eagerly, not willing to wait any longer. The momentarily pain blasted through him, freezing him for a breath and then two until his body realized what was being asked of it and relaxed. Then, that first delightful thrust and another… too sweet, too wonderful to last as long as he'd liked. He fought it, held back as long as he could, but eventually, his mind lost its control and need took over, ripping the climax from him even as the man in his arms moaned his way through his own release.

Panting, he remained still, legs cramped, but unwilling to move and lose the sense of connectivity he had with his partner.

"I need to clean up."

"Why? The sheets aren't going to get any dirty than they already are." He used the corner of a sheet to wipe the semen off his stomach and his hand, knowing his partner was doing the same.

"You have a point."

"I always have a point, at times, even two." He felt the comfortable familiarity of a much loved body press against his and he smiled. Home was definitely where the heart was and his heart was anywhere his partner was.


End file.
